


the last bastion of a weapon, yielding

by inber



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Background Poly, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Light Bondage, Love, M/M, Messy, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Sub Eskel (The Witcher), Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Touching, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: “Come back to me, sweetheart.” Jaskier's breathy voice commanded. “You can do this. You're with me.”And he was. Eskel suffered a minute tremor, a hairline fissure before the shift of tectonic plates. He focused his breath, and he directed his attention on the lesson-mantra: yield. Eskel could relinquish control, here, if he chose it. Let go, he told his pulse-throb, let go.Or: Eskel practices giving up control, and lets himself be adored.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 23
Kudos: 243





	the last bastion of a weapon, yielding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchertrashbag (intothegarbagechute)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/gifts).



_Surrender;_ how baited the word, how sharp the bear-trap teeth of it glint in patient waiting, the spring-snap straining with potential. A one step stumble. Witchers did not submit to such prisons. Vigilance and paranoia married within their minds and bodies to keep them alive.

These lessons were deafening in the blood-pound at Eskel's ears. Every kick of his pulse breathed the same message, the taut musculature of his body hard-wired with the instruction, twitching; _do not yield._

There was warmth, and the sharp acidic scent of grapefruit, and the well-knotted bindings at his wrists and feet. Eskel knelt, his sight veiled by a folded scrap of material, his body bereft of clothing. If he wanted his freedom, he'd need to ask for it. One simple word and the bondage would disappear.

Ironic that the teachings which tempered his ability to relax also prevented him from speaking for his freedom. _Do not yield._ Eskel drew in a ragged breath; too high, too shallow.

“From here,” a voice whispered. Eskel shuddered at a touch upon his sternum; the palm was warm, but the fingers were silky-cool. Gently, the gloved hand slid up. “Breathe from here, darling. Nice and low, nice and slow. That's it.”

Eskel straightened his spine and tried to obey. The smell of citrus intensified as his calm captor circled him; never predatory, never too quickly. Measured steps that Eskel could count. Although the perfume damped his olfactory senses, there had been no penalty to his hearing. Incrementally, Eskel's enormous shoulders began to slump.

“Good,” the purr, “so good. You're completely safe, sweetest heart. All you have to do is be here in this moment, with me.”

Experimentally, Eskel flexed his wrists against the rope restraints. They were solid without biting into his skin, made of woven cotton that could not have been cheap. If he truly wanted to, Eskel imagined he could wrestle free of them. Something wild hooked barbed claws up the column of this throat and let loose a rattle of a growl.

_Do not--_

“Come back to me, sweetheart.” Jaskier's breathy voice commanded. “You can do this. You're with me.”

And he was. Eskel suffered a minute tremor, a hairline fissure before the shift of tectonic plates. He focused his breath, and he directed his attention on the lesson-mantra: _yield._ Eskel could relinquish control, here, if he chose it. _Let go,_ he told his pulse-throb, _let go._

“You've no idea how perfect you look like this.” Jaskier said. “I know supplication is difficult for you, Eskel. Before me kneels one of the strongest men I've ever known.” The slip-slide of fingertips grazed Eskel's side, and he bit down on a moan. “Beautiful.”

Heat flushed Eskel's cheeks, twitched at the edges of his scar, but he didn't tilt his head to scratch against his shoulder. Jaskier knew, anyway. He always knew. Eskel leaned into the touch as Jaskier's gloved hand tenderly rubbed the itch away from the side of his face.

“Colour, my pet?”

“Green.” Eskel said, the dry-scratch of his voice surprisingly loud to his own ears. Safe, he was safe. _Let go._

“Wonderful.” The silk ran sweet-soft down the tendons of Eskel's neck, traced lazily along his pectorals, and paused in a cheeky pinch, puckering Eskel's left nipple. He gasped, and did not bother to dull his reaction.

“Gods, but you are wet, lovely.” Jaskier crooned. “So hard for me. Don't think you even know how badly you need this.”

Between his legs, Eskel's cock bounce-throbbed under its own weight, reactive to Jaskier's words. He didn't remember the feeling of his prick filling out fat and red and needy; had it been when Jaskier bound him? When he'd first been touched? Now that it was pointed out, all Eskel could think about was the ache and the heat. He rutted forward against the air, meeting with nothing, whining.

“I know,” Jaskier soothed, “I know. But I can't stroke you like this, darling. You'll come in seconds. And you aren't ready for that, are you?”

Eskel knew it was expected of him to answer. He felt the thickness of his tongue laying stupid in his mouth. “N-no.”

“I think this will help us.”

Those careful footsteps walked behind him, shoe-soles a musician's tempo. Predictable. Entirely for Eskel's benefit. He listened intently, heard the rustle of ribbon.

Heard another two heartbeats, mutant and slow.

“Geralt?” Eskel murmured, “Lambert?”

Silence met him in answer. He strained to hear, and ultimately focused upon Jaskier's foot-falls once more. The touch to his shoulder was expected, but Eskel flinched anyway. Warm, soft lips pressed in chaste, adoring kisses along the chiselled line of Eskel's jaw. He managed to sit back on his heels again. _Let go._

“They might be here.” Jaskier said. “Remember? You wanted them to see how good you can be for me. I said they could, if they promised to behave. Perhaps they will be in and out of the room. I couldn't say for sure if they are watching, darling.”

A dark thrill bolted electric through Eskel's synapses, spreading sensitive to hair-shafts that stood rigid on his arms and legs. He could hear nothing. All he could smell was fruit, and the firewood. Were they witnessing his humility? Eskel thought about two sets of gilded eyes, pupils blown lust-drunk, roving over his obsequious form.

His prick twitched hard, hitting his stomach, spilling a drooling line of precome that puddled on the ground. Eskel tried to draw breath as deeply as he was able, but there wasn't enough air to be had. He felt two hands upon him, flat against his back, rubbing wide circles. He found his ground once more.

“Always wanted you like this,” Jaskier confessed, “so pretty. You are as a gift. Oh, what a delight to unwrap you, Eskel, layer by layer. Have you totally bare for me.”

“Jaskier,” Eskel let his head loll back, “ _Jaskier._ ”

“Such a beautiful gift deserves a bow, though.”

A hand, the delicate silk; Eskel keened as fingers fisted tightly around his prick, squeezing just shy of too strong, offering no movement. The single touch had him calling out, veined pulse quivering faster along the shaft of his cock, a warning. Jaskier did not idle. Eskel could not see, but he felt something pull tight at the base of his desperate dick.

“Oh, but it's elegant,” Jaskier said, “a blue ribbon. Mmm, matches my eyes. Now you are truly all wrapped up for me, Eskel, you gorgeous thing.”

It was not a cock-ring, nor did Eskel suspect that Jaskier intended it to be. Not something to stave his pleasure off. How peculiar it felt to be decorated, to be submitted like something to be coveted. Wanted. Tears burned hot and unshed at his blinded eyes.

“Colour, Eskel?” Jaskier's tone carried a thread of concern.

“Green,” Eskel tried to steady his voice, even as a wet drop rolled down his cheek, sneaking past the blindfold. “Still green, it's just—it's so—p- _please,_ Jaskier. Touch me.”

Immediately, he felt the pressure of hands upon his chest. Those gloves slid friction-free down the pronounced curvature of his abdomen, greedily exploring valleys, staking a claim on the plateaus of his muscle. Eskel leaned heavily into the petting, his forehead finding Jaskier's shoulder.

“That's it,” Jaskier whispered, “I've got you. You feel so good, you know that? I can feel how strong you are. I can feel how hot and ready you are for me. I had these gloves made special for you, did I tell you? I requested the softest red silk. How divine my fingers look against your skin, Eskel.”

Eskel sobbed, his whole body rocking unconsciously forward. Jaskier knelt with him as a pillar, steady, kissing his adoration in morse-code against Eskel's thrumming jugular. The messy-wet tip of Eskel's prick bumped against the buttery-soft leather of Jaskier's breeches, and he grunted his surprise and pleasure.

“You want that, sweetheart? Want to rub against my thigh whilst I hold you? I'll let you, dearest. Anything you want. You've been so good for me. Move with me—there you go—take what you need.”

Moaning, Eskel's mouth fell slack as he rutted forward blindly, the underside of his prick brushing Jaskier's pants again and again. He felt the bow tickle his tightening balls. It felt impossibly good, but it wasn't quite enough. Eskel's shoulders hunched as he thrust, frustrated, tight-wire tense, balancing on a precipice.

“I've got you, Eskel,” Jaskier purred in his ear, “I've always got you.”

Eskel felt the curl of Jaskier's gloved hand around his prick, providing him a perfect sheath to fuck into, and it only took two short snaps of his whip-chord hips before he utterly fell apart. Whining high and wanton, Eskel came in a fierce rush, lashings of his seed bursting from the fat head of his prick to soak creamy and thick against Jaskier's pants, his hip, dripping in rivulets to the stone floor. Absently, Eskel heard the cotton rope creak as he flexed through his orgasm; he heard those two heartbeats again, racing faster, and he knew he was being watched. The thought made him crest higher, crowd into Jaskier more demandingly, until his come-coated cock ached in sensitivity.

Only then did he collapse backwards, landing awkwardly on his hands, starved for breath. He couldn't stop shivering. He thought he might be whimpering like an animal, but he wasn't sure.

Blade on rope, fibres cut with swift slices. Eskel's limbs were freed. They were sluggish and heavy, like he was fucked-out on too many potions, but he instinctively managed to curl inwards on his side. He was not alone for long.

“Rest you head here, Eskel, alright love,” Jaskier's voice seemed far away, but he felt a pillow nudging his cheek, and raised his head enough for it to slide under. Fingers – void of silk – combed slowly though his hair. Gradually, Eskel's breath evened out.

“I'm gonna take the blindfold off, dearest. Keep your eyes closed for the moment, and open them very slowly, okay? A guard has been placed over the fire, but you've been in the darkness for quite awhile. Can you do that for me?”

The fabric lifted. Eskel nodded drowsily. Still he was caressed, still he was held; with care, he squinted his eyes open. The low-light bit too bright, so he pulled his pupils tighter. The first person he saw was Jaskier, cuddled protectively over him.

“There he is.” Jaskier smiled, and Eskel couldn't help but return the gesture. “How do you feel?”

“Mmm. Floaty. Uh, good.”

“Fuck, I should think so,” Lambert's voice made Eskel turn his head lazily, “that... wow. You, um, you. Did that well.”

“High praise.” Geralt smirked, sat beside the youngest wolf. Both of them were visibly enticed by the display they had been allowed to watch; sweat laced their brows, and the hard bulge in Geralt's pants was hard to miss. Lambert had his legs crossed, but he was fidgeting. “Thank you for letting us see that, Eskel. It was...”

“Hot? Wonderful?” Jaskier supplied, amused by the duo of flustered witchers. “You're right, it was both of those things.” He bent down to kiss Eskel's forehead. “I'm proud of you, darling.”

Eskel beamed, closing his eyes again, content to bask in the afterglow. His brothers could wait their turn. For that moment, Eskel revelled in the benefits of surrender, adored and sheltered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I can be found on tumblr @inber for more stuff and things.


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